New Age Beauty

To say that beauty comes from within is a lie

I peel back layers of skin hoping to find it, but as the saying goes beauty is pain

and now I see what is inside myself and it is all running together in a sea of red

Red, the color that I first saw when my mother sat me down for the talk that would turn me into a woman

But later I found out that that same red is not what makes me a woman, but instead  a slave to man

Red, the color of hearts that I told myself belonged together 

But then found that no matter how hard it pumped I could not stand to give anymore of my blood sweat or tears to anyone else but myself

and to say that our two hearts beated for each other was another one of the world's lies so I gave up that red for a distant shade of blue

Blue, the color of my viens that I wished no longer pumped but also the color of the sky that I yearned to see each morning

the color of the tears that my father whiped away on Tuesday nights when the world became to much for such a small yellow headed girl

Yellow, the color of the sun that always shone too bright in my eyes and too hard for my pale skin

the skin that I so wanted to escape each morning, but like glue it clung to me